


i'll be home for christmas, if only in my dreams

by rxginamills



Category: Ocean's 8 (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, F/F, I love this fic, Prison, cause she wants to tell lou so much, debbie just muses about literally everything she can think of, i’ve probably written both lou and debbie as very ooc but oh well, the letter is very long and it’s all over the place but that’s the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21884248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxginamills/pseuds/rxginamills
Summary: Debbie writes a Christmas letter to Lou from prison.
Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	i'll be home for christmas, if only in my dreams

Dear Lou,

Or, just Lou. I don't know. 

How are you doing? Do you still have a thing for vodka? Still doing that stuff? Yeah, knowing you, you probably are. I don't know if I should be sad about that, but then again, you're doing way better than I am.

It's my 889th day in prison (not that I'm counting) and I have to listen to some incredibly aggravating bitches whine and bicker like old ladies at the bingo. Karen (I call her Karen because I can't be bothered to learn her real name) punched her mother-in-law in the face at Thanksgiving dinner, which is probably the most badass thing any of these losers have done, apart from myself, of course. Marsha robbed someone across town. Kendall, the youngest of us, sold drugs to high schoolers.

Yes, I made up all those names. Shut up. Karen is Karen because she’s annoying, Marsha is Marsha because she’s also annoying and Kendall just... looks like a Kendall. 

My God, I _really_ need myself a solitary cell or something. My sanity is hanging by a thread. 

Anyway, my fellow inmates aside, it’s Christmas! And it could not be more miserable here! It’s the same old prison junk every day. I think it’s a miracle they even told us it’s Christmas time. 

Some people get to chat with their loved ones and see their faces for a few short minutes before it’s time to go again. Marsha spends every waking moment crying about how she wants to be spending the holidays with her kids who are coming home from college. Kendall laments about her parents and Karen still badmouths her mother-in-law. 

But let’s get real here: you don’t care about what it’s like in prison. I probably wouldn’t care either if our roles were reversed. 

I sometimes wonder if I would visit you here, if the situation was different. Seeing as you seemed to forget my existence on the second I was thrown into this place. 

It is, after all, my 889th day in prison, and I haven’t seen your beautiful face since the day I was taken.   
  
It hurts to just lie here and wonder if the person who means most to me in this whole fucking world has just forgotten about me. Or if she’s denying my existence. Or everything we had. I don’t even know if you think of me anymore, but I hope you do, because I think of you every damn day. It’s the Lou Miller curse, I guess, because you’re so fucking captivating and I miss you _so_ _much_.

I’m running out of paper. Luckily they gave me many more. If you’ve made it this far, yes, they made me use ancient methods for this. I’m surprised I don’t have to use a bird to send this to you. 

They might get ideas, though, so maybe I should shut up about the birds before I even get started. 

Has this letter been entertaining to read? Are you even reading it at all? Have I made you laugh? And I don’t mean that small one you do with your lashes fluttering when I crack a dumb joke or call you beautiful, I mean the loud, teeth-showing, coming from deep inside your chest - kind of laugh that sort of makes you look like a donkey, but it’s cute anyway. 

I miss that laugh. I miss you. I can’t help but fantasize about what we’d do if we got to spend Christmas together.

We’d probably drink cheap wine and lie on the couch like a mess of limbs and hair and laugh all night long. Our Christmas tree would be that small, plastic one you can get from Target and it’d sit on our table until February and one of us gets tired of it. I’d suggest playing some card games and you’d roll your eyes but smile too because you have a secret not so secret competitive side and you _love_ to win. I’d let you win once, but that would just fuel the fire and you’d kick my ass for real in all the other games. 

Then I’d drag your ass to bed and we’d most likely have sex. The wine does wonders, you know, and I can’t resist you for long. We’d forget about the cards and have good sex for hours on end. I’ve never been with someone like you. You’re absolutely incredible, not only in bed but in everything you do. The way you touch me and love me in every way... I need to stop before I get horny and Kendall senses it.   
  
She’s kind of weird in that way. I think she can smell it in people, like a dog. She’s been trying to hit on me multiple times but I’ve told her I have a girlfriend. I don’t know how much truth is left in that sentence, but if I’m going to expose any more of my soft side, I might as well go all out: I don’t want anybody else but you. 

Okay, now we can talk about weapons of mass destruction and bank robberies and brass knuckles and everything in between! 

That was an extremely poor attempt in toughening myself up but at least I tried. I think you’re the one who keeps up our tough image. Everyone seemed to cower away from us when you barely looked at them when we were still doing cases together. It was kinda hot.

Talking about cases, oh man... The genius I am even blows myself away sometimes. I know what you’re thinking and you’re rolling your eyes again! But just know that my mind is never not at work and the good thing about this place is that no one can read minds. Well, if anyone here could, it’d be Marsha. She’s real creepy sometimes. 

Sheesh, just thinking about the future gives me the shivers. Hopefully I’ll get to tell you all about it when I get out. 

Do you think my brother would be proud of me, Lou? Or would he be so disappointed that we could never look at each other again? Would he be ashamed that I ended up in prison with these lunatics? Ashamed that what was supposed to be a simple and easy gig went wrong so terribly?

Stupid Claude Becker. Someday I’m gonna kick him in the nuts. Get him where it hurts. It’s incredible how pissed off I still get when I think about his face and that million dollar smile. He’s a man who promises everything and doesn’t deliver.

Lucky for me, I have you. Or, _had_ you. I hope the first one still applies. 

I think I’m going to go work on that solitary cell now. Karen is screaming. What she calls her ”mother-in-law’s ugly old face” is still a very vivid memory for her. 

I can’t wait to be home for the holidays one day. I love you, Lou.

Merry Christmas. 

Yours, 

Debbie 

* * *

Lou scoffed and folded the letter before throwing the paper over her shoulder. She heard it float gently on the floor behind the couch. The bronze liquid swimming around in her glass of whiskey suddenly seemed black. Lou fetched a bottle of wine - cheap, naturally - and poured herself a glass. 

She stared at the wall in front of her and repressed her frustration by tightly squeezing her hand into a fist. She took a sip of wine. 

Lou sighed, sipped the wine a few more times and then set down the glass to retrieve the letter from the floor. 

She folded out the paper and looked at the last lines again. Her eyes softened.

 _I love you, Lou._  
  
Lou chuckled sadly and stared at the letters, scribbled in Debbie’s handwriting. The four words seemed just as unbelievable as the first time she read them. She ran her fingertips over the pencil marks and imagined Debbie lying on her stomach and eagerly writing down everything she had to say. 

_Of course I think of you_ , she wanted to scream as if Debbie would hear, _how_ _else would I get my daily dose of garbage jokes and ridiculously pretentious heist attempts? They’re engraved in my memory since they’re all you talk about._

Lou smiled, and it was a genuine smile. A teat trickled down her cheek but she didn’t hurry to wipe it away. 

”I love you too, stupid. Merry Christmas.”


End file.
